Until Further Notice

A Story by Blair Tisius

Rewritten and reposted. A girl wakes up to a world she doesn't know and a man who should be dead.

Until Further Notice

     And everything went black.
        There�s a rushing sound in her ears, as if a waterfall in her brain tumbles down, down through the dark caverns of her ears. She opens her eyes and looks up. The sky is gone. Did it fall? All that�s left is a drizzly, rainy Tuesday morning dull gray. No sun, but gray light illuminates everything and chases away the shadows.
        She sits up; she sits on sand, fine, fine sand that slips through her fingers the moment she picks it up. Behind her is nothing, except sand and sand, gently sloping hills upon hills of elusive gray sand. Standing, she notices she�s barefoot; her feet sink into the sand. Looking around she is surprised. In front of her lays an endless railroad. Forever on to the left and forever on to the right it runs. Briefly she wonders which end will meet the other first.
        Beyond the track is a rundown driftwood building. She shuffles through the sand and feels it run over her feet and trickle between her toes. She walks on and there is neither sun to beat down on her nor wind to blow in her face, just still unmoving, gray sand, a railroad, and a shack that never gets closer.
        And then, she is at the porch. She steps up and brushes a hand across the weathered wood of the doorframe. Splinters of wood and once red paint drift to the ground.
Inside it looks like a station, with a number of benches and a desk with a register on it. A window peers outside and all she can see are the tracks. Everything is gray and insubstantial, constantly hazy, like looking through a heat wave.
     There is a man, just as substantial as everything else, a man who should be dead. He is breathing � he should be dead � she knows he�s dead � she remembers him dieing � whoever he is � she can�t remember � but he should be DEAD.
     For the first time here, she is frightened. Who is he, and why is he alive when he is dead? Is she dead? Where is she? Why can�t she remember? She starts to hyperventilate and realizes she isn�t breathing. Why is she dead?
        The man she can�t remember laughs. She starts; she�d forgotten he�s there. He laughs again, his voice a harsh crow�s. �No,� he says, �you aren�t dead, or at least not yet.� There�s a decidedly nasty quirk to his lips.
     She licks her lips. �But-but,� she stammers.
     �But-but,� he mimics.
     She can only stare at him blankly.
     He gives a sigh, �Yes, this is the land of the dead. Welcome, bienvendidos, my name is Oliver and I will be your guide for the duration of your stay.� He waves his hand in a gesture of impatience.      �We really thought you wouldn�t make it, honestly. I�m surprised you made it this far � I had a bet going you�d get stuck halfway out of the tunnel in half a week � you got hit by a lorry, you know.�
     �What?�
     �Well that�s how you got here. A lorry hit you; your spirit departed from your body and traveled this way � that�s what all the sand was by the way. But the boss doesn�t know if he wants to keep you or send you back. Personally, I think he should just keep you, it�s not like you were really doing anything when you died.�
     �So, I�m � I�m really . . . �
     �Jesus. No. See you newbies are always so slow. A lorry hit you, the boss doesn�t know what to do with you, i.e. you�re in transit.� He took in her blank look. �You�re body�s in a coma.�
     �Oh.
     He opens his mouth, probably to say something confusing and not in the least bit helpful, when he freezes, and c***s his head to the side instead.
        Then a strange silence fills the room and a slow tumbling rumbles through.
        Oliver arches an eyebrow, �You really want to let her go?�
        An affirmative rumble.
     �Fine, fine.� He reaches to the register and pulls a lever. A slip of paper comes out; he rips it off and hands it to her. �Here you are ducky. Hope you enjoyed your stay here in Purgatory. Be seeing you soon. Now please, get out and go back to Earth, you undead thing.�
     He pushes her out the door and she stumbles past the train tracks, stumbles through the unidentifiable sand, stumbles, stumbles, falls, falls, falls . . .
     . . . Into something soft. She opens her eyes and sees white; friendly beeping noises fill her ears. She sits up. She is in a hospital bed. Alone, in a hospital room. She clenches her fist and hears a crunch. She looks in her hand. In it is a receipt. It reads:
     �One temporary stay in Purgatory. Released until further notice. Have a nice life.�
     And as she stares, it turns into strange, gray sand that floats away and disappears the moment she breathes.